No Wall – Tourists in Berlin, ’65

No Wall – Tourists in Berlin, ’65

The wall was made of riddled cinder block with barbed wire atop;
my parents bought me
a pipecleaner-bodied doll in a dark felt
uniform, supposed to be
a border guard, his nose incongruously
round, his eyes incongruously
googly, the ones we saw shadowed
about the eyes, at least so they seemed
at the checkpoints.

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Draft 55-word poem for Marian’s prompt about a wall, posted belatedly to Real Toads. Pic (such as it is) is mine.